Mourning Doves

I heard the rustling, whistling of their wings moments before I saw them.  It sounded like the flutter of many heartbeats, comforting and surrounding me.  I looked up to the sky and saw them in flight - mourning doves - dozens of them -  unable to identify the male from the female, I wondered where they were heading.  It is Spring and they are migrating.  Was something alarming them?  Or would I see the "dance" of courtship?  Which female would receive the attention and cooOOoo-woo-woo-woooo?  Who was already mated?

To feed, they had to touch ground, but here I was on the Brooklyn Bridge and there they were.  Perhaps they were seeking the overhead wires to perch upon for a bit.  Their song could be carried in the air, across the river, echoing against the high rise buildings.

All of these thoughts and images have come to mind, two days in a row, after nights of furious and frightening dreams.  It is as if these birds arrive, the second I wake, to chase the sharp images back into the night.  My Love is no where near to comfort and hold me when I toss and turn.  I cannot turn to him, in the middle of the night, to taste his life or hear his heartbeat against my skin.  I am alone and fearful.

Usually my horrible dreams portend unhappy future events beyond my own life or my control.  Or so the pattern of my sleep has been for years now.  I am left fretful and uneasy during the day until what eventually unfolds, unfolds.  I wait, knowing something is going to happen, wondering what will be.  It is a strange psychic ability to have - I only sense disaster and I am not given the gift to give warning to anyone.  And so the news reached me this morning; a dear friend suffered a heart attack.  My thoughts have been with him ever since.

Are the doves a sign of peace and hopefulness?  Why mourning doves and not the more common city bird, the pigeon?  What seeds are being planted in my mind?  Is this why I was determined to cross the Brooklyn Bridge by foot, yesterday?   Yet, not a bird was to be found in this reality.

This psychic ability is an elusive burden shrouded in a mystery I have yet to unravel.  What matters now, however, is that my friend, and his Love, suffer no more and that he heals quickly and thoroughly.